


a cinderella story

by i_write_for_my_friends



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Love Lost - Freeform, Unrequited-that-isn't-actually-unrequited-pining, btw this ISNT takuboro im so sorry, they're engaged tho, yep she's clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_for_my_friends/pseuds/i_write_for_my_friends
Summary: He had more bags under his eyes than the one afternoon when she caught him accidentally napping outside. Dark rings encased them in a manner that screamed to her it'd been nearly a week since he last slept well, and the sight of him animated and the smile that began to curve onto his lips wracked her with a sense of nausea - or had it been guilt - for calling him to come see her at such an hour. At such a meaningless and selfish problem in retrospect.//Implied Ryoboro--takubo on paper but it's technically not at all.





	a cinderella story

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for the pacing; it gets a little rough because i got hasty and wanted to finish umu;;
> 
> did this a while back, didn't think to post it here until now lol
> 
> any comments on errors you may find are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading!!💖))

She was a bawling mess the evening she asked. Her knees had given out, her legs wobbled and she'd sunk to the floor, wailing and hiccuping and holding herself in her arms after he'd said _yes._ His hands quickly wrapped around her shoulder, one patting then rubbing her back but all of that didn't matter because she'd finally mustered the courage,  _finally_ had the confidence to speak up and admit she'd wanted more than what they had, and he had said  _yes._ Years upon years of everybody rooting for them from the sidelines had finally all paid off.

_Yes._

There'd been no reason for courtship, she'd thought: _Obviously, this was true love._ She'd known it the day they met, and had known in her heart she'd die for him, but not only as a soldier sworn to protect her lord. Their wedding had been set for a day once the realm was in a right state, waiting for serenity and unity to return to their homeland. The date was trivial to her; she could wait double the time it'd taken to let her feelings be heard to become his wife. It didn't matter as long as she knew she would be with him forever. She'd loved him with every fiber of her being, and she knew her feelings for him would never wane.

 

The faucet continued its dribbling down into the drain, partnered with a weary sigh in the otherwise silent washroom. Her groom-to-be had yet to rise, still sound asleep only a wall and door away. Recently, even the appeal to lie in bed with him for a few extra moments, savoring the warmth of his body and touch on busy mornings was gone. In the beginning she could blame the fact that sparks no longer flew between them at this stage in their relationship, but it didn't explain to her the blatant loneliness she'd felt while waking at his side. Something was missing, but she couldn't exactly pinpoint what.

This had been the man she pined over undoubtedly for years without a foreseeable outcome; he was her only source of light as she’d struggled so hard to break free from her past. He was a kindred soul who had experienced the same grief as she; to come out of it a little broken but in the end stronger but still well-poised and compassionate as ever. He held her every night and never once complained of his horrific dreams since she moved into his room. He was with her in every moment of their day, ready with a small but soft smile at any time she looked in his direction. No matter how many times she reminded herself of all of his traits she’d fallen for, she would still have to let go of the breath she would hold while waiting to feel something again.

A puddle collected along the rim of the sink when her hands scooped up the cool water to splash herself, repeating the motions several times over until the grogginess from another restless night finally subsided. Her face drenched from the final count, she hadn't noticed her hair had been caught in the rinsing as well until her vision steadily rose up towards the mirror. Gods; there hadn't been a single strand in her bangs that remained dry after her thorough wash, and the image of herself displayed with her drooping eyes and sagging hair was nothing short of hopeless combined with downright unnatural. Even as she prided herself as being someone who cleaned up exceptionally well, the tailor was ready to consider her image a lost cause that day.

When there came another noise from her, it was in between a vengeful snarl and an exasperated huff. Furiously, her digits scavenged and pecked her scalp for the band she kept her hair back with, ripping it with violent force as her locks fell and fanned out, the pieces landing on her shoulders and down her back. Swiping a cloth that rested neat and folded on a stool to her right, she scrubbed her hair and face damp; the fabric burning her already irritated skin from the hours she lied awake when sleep couldn't take her. None of this had felt right, and frankly; like anything like her at all. Throwing the towel onto the counter top, she raised the wrist that her tie hung loosely around, but her reflection made her freeze once again and caused her mouth to fall slightly open when a sense of despair gradually possessed the air.

When had been the last time she'd seen her hair down? The question to herself was trivial; as per her regular care and managing of it she'd brush and comb it at least once daily, but to actually look herself over without her ponytail? She'd recalled how initially changing her style was an attempt to impress him that didn't seem to have gone unnoticed, landing her results in the base of a compliment and a perk in his mood when she'd chosen it over letting it all out. Eventually tying it back with a shorter, messier layer to similarly mimic his own hair had became her signature, but it had all been a change for him. She'd remembered how seething and spiteful she was for weeks to come after the clueless samurai she worked alongside harmlessly copied her trend, even going as far to carry a pair of scissors to wait for even the smallest excuse to snip it off his head. Cringing at the repressed ugly memory, she was left to wonder at what else she'd altered of herself for him–how much left of her image and demeanor was still original? How much was she willing to sacrifice of what made her who she was?

Fear began to creep onto her spine, accompanied by doubt from simply having no explanation for what was going on. It was undying love - of course - for Takumi that she'd changed; matured. Obviously, if it'd meant he would love her more, then tying her hair up, training herself to laugh in a more feminine manner, experimenting more with makeup, waiting on his every whim, and constantly being at his side were all worth it. It was worth cooking all of his meals, mending and making all of his clothes and outfits, tidying their room, and supporting him emotionally if it meant she would never be alone and cold again. 

_But what was she thinking?_

No; she was unhappy. Unsatisfied. There was no point in lying to herself when it was only her and nobody else was around. Where had things gone wrong? How had her devotion died? Obviously, something needed to be done about her second-guessing, else she could live the rest of her days staring up at their ceiling each night, counting down from ten until the repetition could finally put her to rest. Obviously, she needed some counseling if she wanted to save what she'd worked so hard to gain. Exiting the bathroom, she slid the door open with a tiny creak, watching the prince she'd been dying to marry only months ago. Her heart sunk, and with it her knees nearly gave out and she would've crashed to the floor. It pained her more than just as his lover, but as his friend just as much, for this utter betrayal of feelings. He slept soundlessly, none the wiser of what was brewing inside of her head. Apologizing quietly under her breath, she'd left him to continue to rest as she hoped to have time to herself that afternoon.

It wasn't enough. She needed a break; a diversion to clear her thoughts. A second opinion, or at the very least another lead. Her mind immediately turned to her one friend she could trust implicitly with her emotions and secrets; his brother. He'd remained a good friend, perhaps an even better one when she'd first enlisted his help in getting the younger prince to notice and appreciate her more. Without fail, he'd been a reliable and punctual confidant; it seemed no matter how professionally taxed he appeared, he could always spare a moment for her and magically make himself available. It was hardly an appropriate relationship on paper, but becoming his family by law eventually hardly made her concerned by her own behavior. Legally, it would even fall to her and his brother to produce an heir for the kingdom if he remained unmarried, but the sheer thought of any kind of intimacy at all with her long-lived crush made her grateful to the higher powers above that he was not the sort to initiate moods or ignore a _no._ A shiver set a course through her nerves where she sat, blinking away her more serious train of thought that was too heavy to be left alone with.

 

 

He had more bags under his eyes than the one afternoon when she caught him accidentally napping outside. Dark rings encased them in a manner that screamed to her it'd been nearly a week since he last slept well, and the sight of him animated and the smile that began to curve onto his lips wracked her with a sense of nausea - or had it been guilt - for calling him to come see her at such an hour. At such a meaningless and selfish problem in retrospect. Were it like old times, her reaction would have been to bark at him for showing up, harshly lecturing the man for putting her before his own physical needs - again - falling back into old habits and how his recklessness was exactly why she worried for him and his well being and how he could use more than just his personal retainers to keep his health in check.

But something about their circumstances made her quiet and unable to voice her concern. Something made her hold her tongue and close her mouth after her initial shock, and all she offered was a small smile of her own back up at him, her eyes falling to the bench she sat on. "Aren't you too old to still be neglecting your body?" She gave a short chuckle after her sardonic question to keep the mood positive and relaxed. Ironically, there had been an added strain to their friendship since becoming his future in-law, although she wasn't sure whether he was the one to create the rift–or she.

"Perhaps I am," he gave her the right of doubt with a warm grin, one that reminded her of his stubbornness and innocence all in one expression. He could say both with one movement of his mouth, and that had always fascinated her. "But, when duty needs me, I must do what is asked of me first."

"Lame," the tailor snapped back at him on impulse, using a favored word she'd all but dropped unless she were around her closest friends. Finding it return so effortlessly back into her vocabulary forced her to slant her eyes at what she could see of the tip of her nose. "You've always got some stupid excuse that sounds noble–in theory, ready to cover yourself with. It's so annoying."

"You speak many truths."

There was a small pause before she pried further, "Even the annoying part?"

"Yes."

Although he was only vehemently affirming every word she was saying, a smile still began to tug on her lips, and when a warm breeze despite the lack of one hit her face, she peered into her lap, tucking away loose bangs behind her ear. No matter how much they could bicker and tease back and forth without an end to it in sight, she was less used to it than she would ever care to acknowledge. He seemed ready to accept all of his faults whenever he was with only her; a fact that had made them feel like much older friends than they actually were.

"Hey–" after her feet were planted back on the ground, the smaller woman found she was able to make eye contact with him again. Had she been a second later in looking back up at him, she would have missed the short-lived bashfulness in his own comforting beam. "I don't think I say this often, or ever; but, I'm really glad that we're friends. Thanks for always putting up with me."

There came a chuckle from him that more closely resembled a huff from her flattery. "The pleasure has always been mine, nor have you ever been a burden to me; but I sense that isn't why you've called me out here." He was quiet for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should state what was obvious. "You don't appear so well yourself, either," He usually was only this honest with observations if they were severe enough for him to feel concerned for her, and the young woman allowed it, reminded of her initial reason for her request to just talk. She'd been working towards that; his own poor condition briefly stalled her as she'd genuinely debated if it was taking advantage of his extended kindness to her to ignore how disheveled and lethargic he'd looked and sounded.

"I–" Voice cracking, her insecurities and doubts rushed back to her, sending her reeling forward that he was ready to intercept with a firm hand jutting in front of her on reflex. Every trace of her positive and regular attitude deserted her once she'd lunged, and had she not caught herself in time, she would've smacked right into her friend.

"Are you okay?" He was kneeling at her level with such alarming speed that she hadn't even noticed he moved, and his eyes were pierced with a sense of urgency. Overwhelmed with humiliation for her sudden uneasiness, she wrapped one of her palms onto his outstretched arm firmly, the other hiding her mouth as her head darted to her left as she seemingly shrunk with shame. The reason for taking his wrist had been to regain her balance, but she'd noticed a significant rise in her body heat, despite that he'd been wearing his gloves that were cool to the touch. He didn't seem to mind - or pay any mind to it at all, rather - but she retracted her hand as soon as she'd felt inexplicably warmer.

"No," she responded meekly, knowing better than to lie to her friend that could detect deception from her without fail. It really was incredible how well-versed he'd been with her quirks and mannerisms, sometimes leaving her to believe he knew her more than she had herself, and that was certainly more than his brother she was set to marry. "I don't think I am, I'm so nervous and scared,"

His eyes slanted, followed by his brows furrowing, and his wrinkle between them formed to say to her he was pensively deciphering any and all causes for such ailments. Once his countenance softened, his head bobbed slowly in a small nod, and gradually, he rose back onto his feet. "Ohh, Obo; can this be about..?"

Though he hadn't finished his sentence, both knew who the other was talking about, and she confirmed his inference with a nod of her own head. When his ridiculous nickname for her she loathed had slipped out so casually again, her natural response to grumble over it and warn him to knock it off like she always had was hushed by her gloom. She was far too upset to get into it with him now, but that had only made his faint grin disappear. "How can you tell? Is it really that bad?"

"I'm afraid so," his hopeful smirk had snuck back onto his mien, assuring her - or at least an attempt to - that things were less serious than she'd dreaded. "Well? What issues have you been experiencing? You are aware of his overabundance of love for you, correct?"

The tailor sucked in air through her teeth when he reinstated what she already knew, and what she was trying to forget. Of course he had loved her; but the issue had lied within her, what she thought she couldn't return anymore. What was removed from her heart one season ago. "Yes," with a bow of her head, she confirmed that what he said was apparent, even to her. "I am aware, but that's not–"

"It will pass; I'm confident that once you're both wed, everything will be better than before."

Something about the way he'd uncharacteristically cut her off sent a blaze of pain through her upper body, causing her to tense up and grow slightly agitated. "No; you don't get it," she cleared her throat, her eyebrows coming together when it seemed like he weren't listening to her. "I can't even remember the last time I'd kissed him and actually enjoyed it."

He blew more air from his nostrils impatiently when her emotional state only further escalated. The sigh ripped more aggravation from her interpreting it as annoyance towards her problem, rather than wishful thinking on his half for still believing they had a chance to work things out. "Look, I know this is a frightening time for you, but you will just have to trust me,"

Why was she explaining herself to him? To her only friend she'd known to completely understand her? Had offered his counsel, and had always an overabundance of support to hand to her freely? "I just don't think I'm happy with him anymore," a ragged breath passed her lips, and one hand slid slowly up her other arm. Searching his face frantically, she studied him for any signs he would share even a shred of his wisdom to her revelation. "What if I made a mistake?" Why was he doing this?

He only offered a shake of his head to her, still in favor of blind optimism despite that all he was hearing had to have spelled doom even to him. "Don't say such things. I know it will pass."

"You know what, actually? How would you even get it?" Scoffing, she folded her arms against her chest, referring to his own relationship status. Somewhere she grew bitter and fed up with his denial, even if it was only to comfort her doubt. "Considering you're still not married, and that you've never talked about anybody to me, it's safe to assume you have no experience whatsoever under your belt. I'm not sure why I came to you about this at all."

The expression she was met with was a mixture of disbelief and resignation, his brows knitting after closing his eyes and exhuming a long and tired sigh through his nose. To presume he was only a little offended would've been a massive understatement. The absence of any clarification as to what he felt agony over had effectively caused her to panic inside her own head until he found words to describe his reaction. "I may not entirely understand," he defended, refusing to meet her icy glare. "But I do understand more than you assume I do,"

"Oh, really?" She shot back, immediately regretting it when he visibly flinched, wincing as her daggers soaked in sarcasm punctured his flesh. However, her nerve wasn't completely lost; she was still running on very strong emotions that she had nobody else to take them out on prior to him. "Please, then; continue. If you know so much, then by all means, tell me what's best for me."

He had long since lost his own will to further disagree–to argue her point with her. Looking at him now, it seemed his spine and pride were both gone, leaving him a husk; a frail man, worn from all his acting just to keep everyone's spirits around him high. She'd reduced him to his bare essentials; all that was left was his desire to please others and his astonishingly bleak outlook. "I cannot make any claims as to what is best for you."

"But still, that's not completely true–" her throat stung as she processed what he'd muttered, reflecting it back at him. His long silence turned to dismay to an otherwise forthright and honest statement of her feelings had her forget the pretense of what she'd shared as she began to sense a pang of anger at his omission of his personal insight, "And I _know_ you know that, like how I know there's something you're not telling me," by now her breathing was audible to him as well, her free hand balling into a fist in her frustration at having no reason or direction in the one thing in life she'd thought to give her eternal joy. "I'm asking for your help–why suddenly now - after literally everything - won't you give it to me?"

Another deep exhale could be heard from him, this time it escaped through his mouth, quivering as he quite nearly fell apart before he could choke out his reply. "I cannot say,"

There was great self-restraint in his small voice and stiff stature. His obvious discomfort and grief would have been lost upon most who hadn't known him as closely, but it was written across his frown from each corner even after he managed to open his eyes again. "I just wanted an answer," she reminded, swallowing and ignoring that it'd felt similar to a razor's edge when she did. "I just wanted to know what you thought,"

Met with a silence that lasted nearly a minute, it was broken by him after he'd found her line of sight, taking in one last and long breath.

"I have always ever wanted you to be happy."

 

The air turned stale, then solemn. A chill brushed her shoulders that caused her to inhale shakily, her muscles tensing up uncontrollably at his confession. Somewhere deep inside of her had already known that'd been his one wish for her, but hearing it aloud was almost too much for her to bear. Unable to meet the gaze of her king, her eyes darted to the wooden floor, her head bowing at the atmosphere that begun to weigh her down. He always wore a smile with her; albeit one that hid sorrow and pity behind his lips - his way of never making her worry - but it was gone now and she didn't have to see his face to know that it was. Plucking at a stray string on the hem of her robes, she only grew more anguished from her nervous habit meant to ease her instead. She could still feel his eyes on her while neither had anything else to add to the conversation; it was much too dense for any words at this point. She heard the shuffling of steps moments later and could infer he was on his way - back to his separate room, his separate life–his separate world. Her usual instinct to thank him for setting aside time to speak with her on such meaningless matters was snuffed by the fog which had choked out the pleasantry of their meeting. He left without another sound, and she knew without having to look up that he didn't look back once.

It was a small source of ironic humor for her to think that he'd never found a bride. Years passed like weeks after the war had finally subsided, and yet he never took in a bachelorette or showed any particular interest. A man as courteous, gentle, and patient surely could've had any partner of his choosing–without factoring in that he was more than attractive for any normal standards, and that he was now the ruler of their country. It was a blow of disappointment to the tailor, having dreamed to design and create the new queen's ceremonial attire since she was a young girl; now as a favor and honor to her beloved and dear friend. He'd kept to his promise then, agreeing happily after a short nervous laugh to such terms the day that she'd asked, but now she sat alone, picking apart her own stitch craft; her stare not leaving the string in her lap. The night was black and as empty as her heart, but Oboro didn't move from her place on their gazebo. Her motivation to run back inside, to her own prince, and to work on her own gown were lost in one thought. Somehow, the truth in Ryoma's words to her only had made the ache in her chest worse.


End file.
